


Icy Sea Water and Pink Closet

by HeartFollower_NoTransgressingWhatsRight



Category: Original Work
Genre: Necrophilia, Necrophilism, Other, Touching, non-fiction, non-graphic nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-22 10:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19665934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartFollower_NoTransgressingWhatsRight/pseuds/HeartFollower_NoTransgressingWhatsRight
Summary: This is a dream I had. It was strange, sad and oddly sensual.It seems that my mind knows how to be disturbing.





	Icy Sea Water and Pink Closet

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of non-fiction.

I lay in my soft bed on that evening, comfortably emptying my brain, sure that I would fell asleep soon. No, I wasn’t thinking about death, sexuality, artsy and the like that either keeps one awake or have strange dreams. I was, in fact, trying to get some sleep for another day of school.

I was floating in the middle of an ocean with only my head above water, waves shook me up and down. The water was cold against my skin, deep as pen ink. I looked around and there wasn’t any land in sight except a huge and bare column shaped brown reef about a hundred meters away.

Without thinking, I swam towards the reef with waves hitting my left side. I don’t know why I did it, perhaps my instinct to live, though hazed by the sleeping mind, urged me to get on dry land.

About twenty meters from the reef, I saw a dark grey synthetic bag floating on the reef’s side. What is it? Curious, I re-directed my paddling to the bag’s direction. The bag was being pushed and pulled by the waves, rhythmically bumping on the rock, going back for a meter or so, then bumps back again.

Five meters. I saw the face of a white man showing from the unzipped end of the bag, saw his long bare neck and head of blond hair. I recognized that face instantly: that artist I want to write about but didn’t dare. A shot of alarm ran through me: he shouldn’t be here alone and forgotten. I knew then the man is dead, yet I still speed up towards him, caught with a determination to get his body on land.

As I got closer to his motionless form, I stretched out my arm to grab the bag or him, but it only made him drift further away. Suddenly a large wave fell on us and the bag started to sink down headfirst. I panicked, fearing we would lose what he left behind as well. I immediately took a deep breath and dived down after him, put my arms around him tight, turned us upright, then swam back to the surface.

I pulled us onto the edge of the reef, which by chance has a platform just low enough for us to get on. I pushed him up first and clambered on after, gasping while I lay beside him. For a corpse he was in fine shape. His body was preserved remarkably, he looked like he’s in his thirties or forties, eyes closed so tight you know they won’t ever open, slightly parted lips frozen in a drawing breath. As I lay there looking at him, I dimly recalled that his ashes were scattered in the ocean. _Then what is he doing here?_ I wondered but at that moment the scene changed.

I was back in my room, just before the door, hugging him like he’s a loaf of dripping baguette. I immediately adjust to the shift of place like I always do in dreams. _I have to hide him_ I thought, _before someone finds him here_ , _I can’t explain why there’s a corpse (especially **HIS** corpse) in my room and I can’t leave him in this filthy bag_.

The only place I could hide him was my closet. When this idea struck, I immediately recognized the pun but pushed it aside just as fast. I opened the pink doors and wrenched down the soggy material.

 _Oh,_ I suddenly realized a problem: he’s nude. _Don’t look, DON’T LOOK, you have no business in **that** department_. I held him up with my left arm under his shoulders and the other under his knees，adverting my eyes. For some reason he was perfectly dry, and very, very light. _Like what they say about how a dead person feels when you hold them_ I thought. And his skin soft but cold to the touch.

I carefully placed him in a laying position in the closet. My eyes wandered to him. He was powerless, morbidly beautiful in his lifelessness. An odd, overwhelming impulse, or an emotion, seized me. Before I knew it, I was pulling apart his stiff legs with my gaze lowered between his thighs.

I don’t think I could forget that image.

I stared at it for a few agonizingly long seconds. I took some slow breath. I might have licked my lips.

I put his legs back to their original position, covered him with some clothes and shut the doors.

I woke with the thought _his corpse is in my closet_.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have an idea of who is that body and give a name in your comment, I won't make your comment public, I think it best for his identity to be obscure. Please understand.


End file.
